


Ant-Man VS The TSA

by LadyDisdayne



Category: Ant-Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Bad Ant Puns Courtesy of Scott Lang, Cassie Lang (mentioned) - Freeform, Crack Treated Seriously, Decimation Aftermath, Gen, Hank and Janet Pym (Mentioned), Hope Van Dyne (mentioned) - Freeform, Humor, Random OCs - TSA Agents, Scott Lang Needs a Hug, past scott lang/ hope van dyne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 06:51:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19057444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDisdayne/pseuds/LadyDisdayne
Summary: Scott Lang was lucky to be thrown out of the Quantum Realm, but getting to the Avengers Compound in New York would take more than luck. Who knew flying cross country would be so difficult?





	Ant-Man VS The TSA

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a discussion of how Scott got the Ant Van to New York and the problems he would have faced getting through security.

 

“NEXT! Identification and ticket please.” The clearly overworked TSA agent didn’t bother to look up from her computer as Scott pulled out his wallet.

 

“Hi! Long night?” Scott beamed at the agent, trying to hide his jitters, and handed over his driver’s license and boarding pass. The agent didn’t reply, but managed to look even more exhausted as she sighed, looked at Scott and then his licence.  

 

It had been four days since he flew out of the Quantum Realm, courtesy of a pissed off, jumbo sized, San Francisco sewer rat. After finding Cassie, Scott spent the next three days trying to call Cap. Apparently, in the last five  hours years, everyone had changed their phone number. Or, was, well- dead. 

 

Decimated? Dusted? Taken in the Snap-pocalypse? Vanished in the Snappening?

 

Scott needed to get to the Avengers Compound in New York so they could fix this, and there was no way in hell that after sitting in storage for five years, the Ant Van was going to make the drive through Oakland, let alone across the entire country to New York. Plus, it would take  _ years  _ to get there using ants, not to mention they could only make it so far before being picked off by a rogue seagull.

 

So, Scott had decided to take a nice, relaxing, Delta red eye flight from SFO to JFK for the bargain price of $125.99, one way. Cuz who knew if, or when, he’d get back.  He was probably gonna get sucked into a time hole or into an alternate-dimension at some point on this adventure. Or worse, eaten by a  Tardigrade on his way back into the Quantum Realm .  Not that he really wanted to die, just that with everything else going on, it could happen. Would probably happen.

 

And if he did manage to survive, maybe Cap would give him a lift back. Preferably on the Cap-Cycle. That was a thing, right?

 

“Mr. Lang-”

 

“Oh, please, Mr. Lang was my dad. Call me Ant-Man.” Scott flashed his best Hero Smile  TM  and leaned on the desk, hopeful that the famous name would get him somewhere.

 

The agent didn’t even bat an eye. “Mr. Lang, this license expired over four and a half years ago. Not to mention, Scott Edward Harris Lang died five years ago in the Decimation.”

 

“ _Pffff_. Obviously not dead. I was just stuck in the Quantum Realm. Totally different. You see, my, um, my partner,” Scott choked a bit, thinking of Hope. “She, uh, should have pulled me out but got Dusted instead. So I got stuck for five hours, only it wasn’t five hours.  _ It was five years _ . Can you believe that?!  And then, in a miraculous, universe changing coincidence, a  _ rat  _ randomly turned back on the Quantum Tunnel and WOOSH, I shot back out. Into a  _ cage  _ of all things. And now I’ve gotta get to New York to see Cap - Captain America that is.  Cuz I’m pretty sure we can pull some kinda Time Heist, you know like in  _ Back to the Future _ ? And fix everything. It’s all very important Avengers business.” Scott had stress rambled long enough that the agent’s eyes started to glaze over.

 

“ _ Right.  _ Because you’re ‘Ant-Man.’” Scott could practically hear the air quotes. 

 

“Yep! Thats me. Ant-Man. You probably saw me on the news. I guess that would have been like five years ago though. And I was  _ huge _ . Totally standing in the Bay, before I passed out that is. Saved the world and all that.”

 

“ _ Sure _ . I’m going to need more identification than a fake name on an expired ID.”

 

“Hay! It’s not fake. That is very obviously my face and my name.” Scott jammed his finger at the ID, and pointed to his face. 

 

The agent yawned again, and kept blinking at Scott expectantly, waiting for him to either go away or provide an alternate source of identification. 

 

“Um, well that is really the only photo ID I have, is there any other way I can prove who I am? Please, this is important. My credit card worked just fine after five years. I really need to get to New York.” Scott pleaded. 

 

The agent sighed and looked at her watch, and then Scott, debating if she would rather deal with this guy or risk someone worse coming through her line in the next few minutes. 

 

“Okay, Mr. Lang, here’s the deal. Regulation states that we can use public records to verify identity when identification has been lost or stolen.  _ If _ you can prove to me you are who you say are in the next ten minutes before my shift ends, I’ll get you though.” 

 

“Thank you! Oh, you are the greatest. What do you need to know?” Scott could have kissed the agent, who seemed to immediately regret her decision. 

 

“Let’s see the working credit card. If the name and address for the card matches your ID, then we will look through our public database to match your records.”

Five minutes and a few dozen, overly personal questions later, the agent was still digging through records, looking embarrassingly deep into Scott’s life. 

 

“It says here that a Scott Lang was arrested for robbery years back. It has a photo attached.” Scott’s face came up full screen, with the lovely San Quentin State Prison Prisoner Processing Center behind him. Who said mugshots aren't flattering?

 

“Yep that's me. It wasn’t robbery though - it was burglary. Non-violent. I don’t do violence.” The photo switched to a slightly newer one, featuring a different airport on the other side of the world, accompanying a very different, very unflattering mugshot. “Uh, well, I  _ normally  _ don’t do violence. When Captain America calls, what are you gonna say- No? And I served my time for that. Promise, I won’t go busting up your runway.”

 

The agent stared at him for what felt like an eternity before finally letting out a deep sigh and glancing at her watch. Midnight. She was so done dealing with this. 

 

“Based on my findings, I say you are Scott Edward Harris Lang, ex-convict and  _ possibly  _ Ant-Man. Enjoy your flight.” She handed him his documents back with a stamped letter verifying his identity before ushering him into the security line. She shut off her computer screen and booked it to the Employees Only door. This weirdo was someone else's problem now. 

 

Scott hopped into line, removed his shoes, shoved his bag into the scanner, and made it through the body scanner painlessly enough. 

 

Of course, no sooner had he started to think that he was actually going to be able to catch his flight, a loud beep started from one of the machines. 

 

“Sir, is this your bag?” As an agent held up a glittery princess backpack, Scott inwardly groaned, wondering if he should have kept the whole Ant-Man thing quiet.

 

“Yeah that’s mine. Well it’s not  _ mine _ , its my daughter’s. She let me borrow it. She used to really like-” 

 

“Please step to the side.” The agent cut Scott off and pointed him over to an examination table, located uncomfortably close to the security office, where yet another agent was sliding on gloves. 

 

Scott tried to squash the new wave of panic that was threatening to creep in. The Ant-Van and accompanying Quantum Tunnel alone probably broke at least five laws and would land his ass back in jail. And if they confiscated the Pym Particles... 

 

“I’ll need to go through your bag and see what triggered the sensor. Would you please open all of the pockets?” The agent gave Scott a slight smile and gestured to the bag. 

 

“Yeah, okay sure. Whatever you need.” Scott opened the backpack and let the agent start emptying it, piling Scott’s single pair of jeans and five pairs of socks in a grey plastic bin.

 

Scott held his breath as they reached the Hot Wheels case and popped it open. The Van was surrounded by the rest of Hank’s collection and a couple of toy cars Scott had found around Cassie’s house when they were looking for the backpack.

 

The agent gave a slight whistle as they picked up the Ant-Van. “This is quite the collection.” The agent examined the Van as he spun it through his fingers. 

 

“Oh, well you know. We all have our hobbies right? Love me some Hot Wheels.”

 

The agent politely chuckled and flashed Scott a bigger smile. “I had a case full of cars like this as a kid. Nothing this fancy though.”  The Van was placed back into the case, which was closed and set in the same corner as the stuff Scott brought to read. Okay, so not the Ant Van.

 

A couple shirts and a few pairs of underwear were added to the clothing pile, along with what Scott felt was a very realistic ‘figurine’ of Ant-Man, which was actually one of Cassie’s old Ken dolls wearing the Suit. Scott thought it was spot on, if not a bit blonde. He and Cassie had even started calling it Ant-i-Ken. Not their best ant pun, but it worked. 

 

“Well that's something ain’t it. Quite the replica, although everything I’ve ever seen of Ant-Man, it looked like the guy had a bit of a dad bod.” 

 

Scott gasped and clutched his hand to his chest.“Dad bod?! Ant-Man’s an Avenger! Pretty sure there’s some kind of rule - must be this shredded to be an Avenger.”

 

The agent laughed and placed Ant-i-Ken safely on top of the Hot Wheels, and Scott relaxed a bit, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

 

The agent continued to empty the bag, pulling out a couple snacks Cassie must have snuck in- granola bars, a banana that was put into separate bin, and even a gallon sized Ziploc of Oreo's. His peanut knew him so well, even after five years. 

 

The agent cringed as they pulled out a small rectangle from the front pocket. 

 

“What the hell kind of dog is that?” The agent was holding a small framed photo, mortified. 

 

“Oh, that’s not a dog. That’s a wonderful close up of Ant-oni, my daughter’s pet ant.” Scott stated as if it explained everything. 

 

“Pet ant huh? Kids these days. I guess it's better than a parrot or something.” The frame went into the same pile as the Hot Wheels and Ant-i-Ken.

 

Now if only he would just ignore the-

 

“Um, Mr. Lang, what are these?” The agent pulled out a quart sized Hello Kitty Ziploc baggie, packed to bursting with tubes of bright red liquid. The Pym Particles. 

 

The agent jiggled the baggie, counting the tubes. 

 

“HEY!” Scott snapped. “Be careful with those! Those are very important. Very rare -um, shampoo.” 

 

“Shampoo?” 

 

“Yeah, for my, er, dandruff. You don’t get hair this good using Walmart shampoo! They’re all under 3.4 ounces, and they fit in the quart baggie, so it’s no biggie, right? That’s what Google said anyways, one quart bag, liquid in containers less than 3.4 ounces.”

 

“Dandruff shampoo. That glows red.” The agent looked at Scott’s hair and shook the bag again before placing it in the same pile as the rest of Scott’s clothing. “Not the weirdest thing I’ve seen today, to be honest. What’s it called? I wouldn’t mind trying some myself. Dandruff and a black uniform shirt don’t mix so well, you know?”

 

“Uh, Ant-y Ant-oinette’s Ant-i Dandruff. Found it on eBay.” 

 

“eBay huh? I didn’t think anyone used eBay anymore. I’ll have to look into it.”

 

The rest of the backpack was emptied without incident, the chatty agent only commenting on Scott’s choice of deodorant and cheap wired headphones.  They also went through the TSA signature pat down procedure, which only produced Scott’s cracked, second-hand phone and battered wallet. 

 

“Well, everything checks out.  Except the banana. You can’t take produce across California state lines. Go ahead and repack your items. Have a nice trip.” The agent took the bin with the banana with him as he walked away to chat with another agent.

 

Thirty minutes later, Delta flight 256 SFO to JFK departed with all passengers on board. 

 

For being such a late night flight, the plane was fairly packed. The lady next to Scott had promptly passed out  and started snoring as soon as the plane was in the air and the guy across the aisle in 20C was deeply absorbed in his laptop. 

 

Scott had settled into his aisle seat, headphones plugged into the outdated phone and princess backpack held tight to his chest. Holding the bag let him feel close to Cassie, grounded him. It had been a long few days, years, he supposed. It was a lot to take in. 

 

Scott opened his phone, selecting the list of news articles and information Cassie had made for him of things he had missed the last five years. He started with the most important thing in his life, Cassie. She had tried to catch him up on her life as much as she could while he was with her, but she took some photos of the more important days from her journal. 

 

The last photo was of a short letter addressed to Scott, telling him what it was like without him and how much she loved and missed him, written about a year after the Snap. It was from some kind of school therapy project, to help kids cope with the massive loss of their loved ones. Scott couldn’t fight the regret and devastation that was creeping in, feeling his chest constrict and his breathing become harsher. He had missed five whole years of her life and wouldn’t ever be able to get them back. He felt himself start to shake, letting his leg bounce anxiously in the aisle. 

 

“You alright there buddy?” The guy across the aisle in 20C was watching Scott. 

 

“Yeah, sorry, just a bit heavier reading than planned you know?” Scott gave a weak smile as the guy turned back to his book and tried to calm his leg.

 

Scott moved onto news articles on more recent events, most of which were emotionally staggering. 

 

Much of the world’s infrastructure was crumbling in the wake of Thanos’ Snap. Entire countries had ceased to function, and some of the smaller ones had simply vanished altogether when their leaders and people were wiped out. 

 

Global transportation was a mess and when hundreds of planes, boats, and even the space station had gone down after the Dusting,  hundreds of passengers and bystanders lost their lives. It had taken months for the transportation industry to recover, and even then, it still wasn’t what it used to be. 

 

Starvation was even more rampant with the loss of millions of farmers and agriculturalists, and even more of the population was without safe water and electricity.  Thousands suffered as cities became food deserts, the stores and restaurants becoming unable to import and transport enough food to meet demand. 

 

Birth rates had plummeted while suicide rates skyrocketed. Thousands of children and infants had died when their guardians vanished, leaving them alone to die of exposure, starvation, or worse. Parents were left without their children and entire families had been torn apart. Many couldn’t handle the emotional toll, costing them their own lives. 

 

Thanos hadn’t just Snapped away half of the world, he had doomed those remaining to a slow, painful eventual extinction. Humanity was doing everything it could to survive, to move on, but it would probably not be enough. 

 

Tears stung Scott’s eyes as he rubbed them away with his shirt collar. His leg was shaking worse now, the pent up anguish taking its toll. The guy in 20C was watching again and the lady next to him had woken up to stare. 

 

Unable to read more and wanting to avoid making more of a scene, Scott took a deep, shaking breath and moved onto the next subject. 

 

Cassie had managed to include info on Luis and the X-CON guys as well, all of them with their own missing person reports and memorials. He turned to the page, the heartache building as Hank and Janet Pym’s faces stared back, their memorials and reports detailing what they had left behind.

 

Scott choked as he turned to the last article. Hope. 

 

He set down the phone and buried his face into the backpack, trying to stop himself from tearing up as he softly chanted, “You can do this. You can do this. You can do this,” trying to convince himself. 

 

20C stood up and walked towards the bathroom at the front of the plane. Scott looked back at the article with Hope. It was a sweet memorial, outlining all of her accomplishments. Cassie had gotten close to Hope in the time leading up to the Snap, and as one of Hope’s only surviving friends, had given a statement on Hope’s kindness and love. Scott let out another quivering breath, letting himself drift into the overwhelming sorrow.  

 

Scott yelped and jerked away as a hand grasped his shoulder and he was snapped out of his thoughts. 

 

“Sir, are you alright?” One of the flight attendants was at his side, concern evident on her face. 20C took his seat behind her, trying to act inconspicuous. 

 

“Um, yeah? I think so. Sorry. It, uh, it feels like I haven’t slept in five years and it’s a lot you know. Everything is so much right now.” Scott tried to give her a convincing smile as another small sob escaped. “Actually, I think I’ll just run to the bathroom.” He bolted to the back of the plane with the bag before the attendant could get a word out.  

 

“Sir! SIR!” Scott locked the door before she could reach him, and stared at his bloodshot eyes. He had looked better when he had been rotting in the Raft. 

 

There was light, rapid knocking at the door. “Sir, please exit the lavatory immediately.”

 

“One minute! Sorry, I just need a second to get myself together.” Scott called back. More knocking was his only reply.  He lightly smacked his cheeks and muttered to himself, “Come on Scott, get it together. You can do this. You can do this.” 

 

But what if he couldn’t?  But what if he couldn’t? What if she was really gone forever? What if he  _ failed.  _ The doubt and pain was crushing. Scott didn’t even bother to respond as the knocking and requests for him to come out became more frantic.

 

Eventually, the knocking stopped and Scott sat in the deafening quiet, letting himself fall deeper into his thoughts.

 

Much later,  Scott became aware of an attendant talking in a hushed tone outside the door. “...yeah, he seemed really agitated...copy, yeah he stopped responding about ten minutes ago...his bag in there with him...no, I don't think ...bomb...” 

 

“I DON’T HAVE A BOMB.” Scott yelled, alarmed at the accusation.

 

“...he just yelled … about a bomb...tell air control...emergency landing… Boise is only twenty minutes out...he was in seat 20D, Scott Lang...contact security back at SFO ... we need a contact or whatever informa...” A light  _ ping  _ went off as the seat belt sign flashed on. 

 

Minutes later, another  _ ping!  _ signaled the intercom system.  “This is your captain speaking. We will be making an unplanned stop in Boise in approximately thirty minutes due to an agitated passenger. The safety of our passengers is our top priority. I apologize for the delay. Please remain seated.” 

 

_ Shit! SHit! SHIT!  _ Scott started digging through the bag for anything he could use to get out of this. He grabbed the Ant-i-Ken doll to set it aside. Scott smacked himself in the face, and groaned.  

 

_Holy shit, I’m Ant-Man._ The realization struck Scott to his core. He had taken down Darren Cross. He had fought Iron-Man and half of the Avengers and Ava Starr. Five years in the Quantum Realm hadn’t stopped him. He had survived two prisons and living in Luis’ hellscape of an apartment. Hell, he had even endured two years of house arrest with Jimmy Woo, building his own company from nothing in the process. 

 

_ I’m Ant-Man, and I  _ can  _ fix it. All of it.  _ Thanos may have stolen their future, but it didn’t have to stay that way.  __

 

Scott had done the impossible before, and he could do it again. He  _ would  _ do it again. 

 

Putting on a million dollar catsuit became a whole lot more interesting trying to do it in a tiny airplane bathroom as the plane began its descent for an emergency landing. It became  _ even more  _ fun when a burst of turbulence knocked into the plane, sending a half dressed Scott flying into the tiny metal sink, face first.  

 

“OW! MY FACE!” The plane shifted again, sending him the other direction onto the closed toilet. “OW!  _ OWW _ ! MY BUTT!” 

 

“...he keeps yelling…could be hurting himself… have the marshals...would probably help…what a mess…nding in approximat...”

 

_ I could’ve just  _ snuck  _ onto a plane. Any plane. At any time. What a waste of $125.99 and a perfectly good banana!   _ Scott felt like an idiot as he pulled on the rest of the suit and grabbed the bag, fumbling for the Hello Kitty Ziploc and install a vial of the Pym Particles.

 

“Damn it!” Another wave of turbulence sent the vial spiraling to the ground. He scrambled to grab it as the attendant started talking outside the door again.

 

“You want me to  _ what _ ?...why the hell...open... the door?...fine but if I get attacked you’re paying...” The attendant started knocking at the door again. “Sir,  _ please  _ open the door.” 

 

“One minute please! Just gotta get decent!” Scott finally grabbed the vial and shoved it into place.

 

“Sir, unlock this door!” 

 

Scott slammed his mask closed and grabbed his bag.

 

“It’s open!” Scott yelled as he unlocked the door and activated the suit, shrinking just in time for the attendant to wrench the door open and start screaming. 

 

“WHAT THE FUCK! HE’S GONE! THERE IS NO ONE IN HERE! YEAH I  _ KNOW _ !  Oh, you’re right, I totally missed a six foot dude walked out as I opened the door. YOU NITWIT. HE’S NOT HERE!” There was a long pause as the attendant went into the bathroom again.  

 

“WHO THE HELL is Ant-Man?! He did  _ what?  _ At what airport? Who let this guy onto this plane?! What a bunch of idiots. Ant-Man, you have got to be kidding me… ”

 

Scott couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for the attendant as he scurried back down the aisle and climbed into the laptop bag of 20C. He hadn’t meant to cause them, or anyone else on the flight, any grief. No one deserved the punishment of an unexpected layover in Idaho, let alone  _ Boise _ . 

 

He watched the pandemonium unfold around him as the attendants checked every seat and possible hiding space for Scott. Passengers also began to frenzy, hassling the staff for information on what was happening and how long this was going to take. Red and blue flashing lights lit up the runway while the crew gave passengers instructions to stay in their seats and stay calm.    

 

Finally, the jolt of the plane hitting the ground threw Scott into the wall of the laptop bag, signaling him to take off towards the main cabin doors. Minutes later, police and air marshals stormed the plane as he slipped out, not sticking around to watch the chaos unfold as he ran across the tarmac. 

 

Scott had another plane to catch, this time without the $125.99 price tag and long security lines. 

  
  
  


 


End file.
